The post where I crawl out from under a rock...

I haven't been around much. Truth be told, I've been a terrible mess because of this. Lucky for me, some bit of magic (dissociation) can still present itself to preserve some outer semblance of function. Mommy function, most notably. Things have been so bad that words defy me right now.

My twin daughters recently turned 13. Real Life 'Teenage Girls'. The anniversary of a birth combined with that has caused a breakdown in here. If not for the recent communication with the therapist, I can't even say for sure that I would still be alive right now to type this. I'm glad he's still on board in spite of a protective force who is incredibly fierce and sometimes decides that everyone who is not the husband or children is the enemy and presents a threat to survival. I have been able to keep things going with my babies, but... it's weird that I can feel a breakdown coming on and hide in my room whenever I hear them all content with chatting on the phone, or in the case of the little one, watching her beloved Disney Channel. I'm glad we have thick walls in here and lots of kid noise. And I cry because my mother really tried to be there for me then. For just that once, she really tried, but she was too broken and she had little choice but to trust me to the safety of our larger society. What is a person supposed to think when it's not safe at home and it's not safe away from home, either? A person might think that everything is shit and there is no sense in going on. But then some other things can happen. Like bloggers understanding my rage, and a therapist not giving up, and a kind and gentle pediatric dentist calling to check on my littlest angel before he leaves his office for the weekend. Maybe there can be a tiny glimmer of hope. I hope so. I hope...

Still - I'm in pain. Shutting out the therapist did not stop the teenage girl from coming to me again and again with the devastating circumstances of that birth. And shutting him out scared and confused the little girl. She is terrified without him because he is her mother and bad things happen when the mother is gone. My kitchen was no longer my kitchen. My garage was the grandparents' cellar and the world was a bombed out and scary mess. And with all that going on, there were real children to care for, a messy market to monitor, lists that I pathetically attempted to follow...

I am having to fake an allergy attack to explain why my face and eyes are swollen and why I sniffle. Did I mention that I have a really convincing fake sneeze? Well, I do.

I'm tired. I'm so very tired and I want to feel safe.